


Shot In The Dark

by emmamanic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Also very low on the supernatural side of things, F/M, Future Fic, Sorta an AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmamanic/pseuds/emmamanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been ten years since Lydia Martin has seen Stiles Stillinski, and she hasn't thought about him once. Well, maybe once. Or twice, or... more than that. But she's content, until fate decides she isn't and suddenly, he's back in her life and technicolor and she's trying to pretend she doesn't care but things are rarely simple in matters of the heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is already on fanfiction and can be read on my tumblr, blameitonthebbcbaby! Sorry, AO3, you guys are last, but definitely not least:) (Blameitonthebbcbaby.tumblr.com/fanfic)

_“Stiles.. I can’t love you.”_

Those were the last words she said to him on that beautiful, beautiful spring-to-summer day. June 14th- Beacon Hills High senior graduation. She can still see the image, brilliant in her mind, the green of the grass stark against the blue of the sky, the face of a boy with dark-roast eyes, the bright pink of her designer heels when she couldn’t stand to look up anymore. She remembers, how he stood there in his long gown, cap crushed in his hands with the weight of everything he had given up on the moment those words left her mouth. His face was heartbreaking, and her face was heating, heart thumping as she smoothed a piece of hair and walked away like she didn’t need him. It’s a blessing, it’s a curse, but she will never be able to forget one second of it.

Teenage Lydia Martin was not one for second chances, and she was not one for chalking up the inevitable to ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’. She was about facts and feelings, often interchangeably, she kept them separate in her mind as to not get them in the way, because Lydia Martin was pretty goddamn near genius and you better believe she knew it.

No, Lydia Martin was someone who used boys as a distraction, often to prove a point, punctuated by the glossy coat of Tarte, heavy over pink lips, curved up around men, down around herself, and moved into a thin line when she was forced to deal with people like Stiles Stillinski.

Of course he had a crush on her- who didn’t?- but it’s not as if she cared, way, way back in sophomore year. She can almost laugh at the thought. How different was life, then? Before the mess, the clean-up, before she became a survivor, lost her mind, her best friend, her life, grew up. Damn, she remembers how simple it was, forgetting herself in someone like Jackson. How easy to lift his shirt and pull down her skirt and not think for a while..

He was a perfect distraction because that’s all he was. Maybe she did let herself love him.. but maybe, (and this is far more likely), she only did it for his benefit. He was something to play, a game, but nothing intricate, nothing delicate, something rough and jagged-edged, too hard when she was too soft, too soft when she was so tired. Jackson was easy, because he would never fall in love with her.

She didn’t want anyone to fall in love with her.

 

_The moment she saw the gangly boy (he really was a boy) reach for his cap, she knew this was going to be trouble. Just the fact that Stiles had pulled it into his hands and was certainly ruining the cheap cardboard within it meant that he was nervous. Lydia had never known Stiles to be nervous, not once, and this scared her, because she already had six ideas of where this could go, and she didn't like any of them._

_"Hello." She said, nodding to him. He took a deep breath, and suddenly, she knew exactly where this was going and was filled with the strong urge to run._

_“Lydia, we’ve been best friends for two years, and I need to say it. I just need to say it.”_

_“Stiles, don’t.”_

_“And maybe it’s the dumbest thing ever but I don’t give a shit. I’m tired of pretending and I know you feel something too, and so here I am, making the move, and I should have done this a long time ago-”_

_“Stiles.”_

_“-because, Lydia, I love you, and I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember and I’ll still love you tomorrow when you hate me and fifty years from now when you don’t and through all of it, I’ll love you.”_

It was in that second she had noticed his eyes were the color of dark-roast, bright in the daylight, a shot of caffeine. It was in that second she could see herself, falling in love with him, being with him, having two kids and a crappy house with him, and she was scared.

 

_“Stiles..I can’t love you.”_

 

She still can’t remember his face in that moment. Her perfect memory has a timeskip- her heart protecting her from unwanted feelings, ones that she buried years ago. She hadn’t thought about Stiles much- once, when she had drunk far too much Cabernet, she called his house but he has moved out, of course, and she laughed when she heard that, glad to know he had moved on, but then things got blurry and she had to put down her head for a while.

Another time, she called Scott and told him everything, made him swear not to tell a soul, replacing Stiles’ name with some stranger’s, knowing that someone as loyal as Scott could never keep a secret for longer than a day when it came to his friends. Scott still asks about ‘John’ sometimes, but she always cuts him off and says she doesn’t want to talk about it, and he accepts it, damn that noble bastard, but  then he asks if she’s talked to Stiles lately and she stops for a second before stating a smooth excuse and waving off the idea of animosity.

Because the truth is,  it’s been ten years, and she hasn’t seen Stiles for any of it.

But somehow, here she is, June 14th, Beacon Hills high, staring at the impeccable green grass, preparing for their school reunion and wondering how in the hell she got herself here.

 

* * *

 

 

Lydia has been nursing a mimosa for half an hour. There’s no one else at the mini bar- it’s pitiful for her, because she knows she could walk up to anyone with a snooty grin and a comment on neuroscience and they’ll know that old Lydia Martin is alive and well but she is not the old Lydia Martin.

So she flips her hair and drinks through a straw like a good girl, watching with semi-interest as the room fills. She was early, by reunion standards- most people show up two hours late, already smashed. That’s not Lydia’s style, so she asks for a margarita and smiles when it comes with a fresh lime slice, thanking the bartender with a thumbs up that’s not at all sarcastic. It’s delicious- the margarita- so she asks for another and she’s properly tipsy now but she’ll hold her own.

The clock’s ticking to the end of hour one of reunion-extraordinaire, when Lydia spots Danny, someone she actually likes. She waves him over with a flirty grin, spinning on her barstool and gives another to his boyfriend of five- no, six years. Lydia tries to keep it straight in her head, as numbers have never been liable to slip, but the boys are just so sweet and honestly, Danny’s (boyfriend, husband, partner) is hilarious.

They talk and it’s been a while since she’s felt this open. Somehow, the presence of someone next to her who’s not looking to A) sleep with her, B) kill her or C) be her is comforting. _Somehow,_ she thinks with a snort. The conversation’s light and quick. It feels good to laugh.

Sometimes Lydia wonders if people think she’s a failure.

Not that she is- goodness, she transferred from Stanford to Harvard, got three Masters (in six years, mind you) and is running a subletting business in New York. Traditionally, she’s successful as hell. Those from money make money- and she’s known the life of both.

Lydia doesn’t tell anyone any of this, of course. She’s smarter than that. Old friends will pretend to be long-time friends, showing up on your doorstep with a bottle of wine and an invitation you did not send. So she stirs her straw and listens to Danny telling her excitedly about a short film he’s making while his boyfriend nods happily, in full support- he’s not lying. This she knows because this is the same look she gives all of her investors and she could spot a lie from a mile away.

Let’s not pretend Lydia Martin isn’t happy- because a lot of the time, she is. Traveling, shopping, convincing, researching. She doesn’t pretend she’s some drippy heroine who’s so caught up in her work life she’s forgotten how to love- God, she hates that trope- no, she’s just too busy getting grants and solving equations for Clay’s Millenniums and winning the Fields Medal, just like she said she would.

Right now, though, none of that matters because she is not Lydia Martin, executive genius, she is Lydia Martin, airhead heiress, even if neither of those things are true. It’s the part she plays so she gives a smile and thanks God that none of her friends are here.

Of course, that lasts about twelve seconds because Lady Luck has never been kind, and half a second later, Kira walks up with a giant grin. Lydia hugs the girl, because she’s not some emotionless robot, really, she’s just very insightful, and asks how her life has been.

Kira says she’s been at college all ten years- no, she’s not failing that badly, (this comment is interrupted by a laugh), she’s a teacher, just like her father. The school scouted her the second she graduated and she accepted happily, of course. Actually, Kira tells Lydia she planned the reunion, because nobody ever talks anymore, and Lydia swallows down the cynical words that are about to spill out when Scott comes through the door.

Well, not just Scott, Scott and a girl and Stiles, but Lydia doesn’t know the girl so she watches as Kira bounds up and gives them each hugs in rapid succession, each as tight as the last. Lydia watches, bemused- seems Kira and Scott have no hard feelings, even after the breakup of the century (but more on that later). The group sees Lydia and heads over, each beaming in varying levels of intensity.

“Lydia!” Scott’s smile is wide as he pulls her into a bear hug. “How have you been? WHERE have you been? Oh, sorry, this is Sam. Sam, Lydia!” He’s like an excited puppy. The girl (Sam) shakes her head, smiling.

“Hi, Lydia.” She reaches up for a hug as well. A hugger- Lydia sees why Scott likes her. “Scott’s told me so much about you!” The girl’s animated, but not annoyingly so. Her glossy dark hair is in a bob, an adorable cut Lydia makes a mental note to try later, and her features are round. She’s petite, only a bit taller than Lydia herself.

“I’ve been well. Went to school, moved around. Hello, darling.” She says, referring to Sam. There are so many warm introductions- Lydia would be stunned if she wasn’t Lydia, but she is. Luckily, she doesn’t have to hold up pretenses for much longer because Scott’s pulling Sam away to meet some other lucky class member and leaving Kira and Stiles behind.

Lydia cocks her head in Stiles’ direction, noting his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a clear sign of uncomfort. Suddenly, Lydia’s sent back to high school, and she lets out a puff of air in quiet rebellion. She turns her head away and stirs her drink, momentarily ignoring the upcoming conversation.

Kira, the dear she is, looks from Lydia to Stiles, trying hard to keep the smile on her face. After a few seconds of silence, she nods and turns, as if scoping out the rest of the reunion. Her eyes light up as she sees a newcomer and rushes towards them after sending a brief smile towards Lydia and a ‘Glad you could make it!’ to Stiles, leaving the silent pair alone.

Lydia gets bored quickly and looks up at the boy in front of her. She doesn’t want to waste time like this, she doesn’t need it.

“How’ve you been?”

Stiles looks up so quickly she briefly wonders if he’s gotten whiplash.

“Uhm, you know. Work. Life.” He says, leaning his head back. “Got a job at the precinct after academy, worked my way up. Head detective, now.” She knows he’s proud from the sound of his voice, and he should be.

“So, you never left Beacon Hills?” Her voice is light, but the implications aren’t.

“No. How could anyone leave this life behind?” He gestures around him, and she knows what he means. After Scott successfully turned off the beacon factor of Beacon Hills, things had quieted down by far. It’s not like there was never an issue- strange things had happened, but it was definitely quiet enough for someone as simple as a banshee to slip free. At least the voices didn’t talk as loud anymore. She realizes he probably didn’t mean to imply anything about her, but he already has and she bites.

“I did.”

“Yeah.”

Then it’s quiet for a couple more seconds.

“What ever happened with Malia?” Lydia’s honestly curious about this one. After she severed all ties with Beacon Hills, she lost touch. She remembers Malia and Stiles’ relationship, something so strong that fell so fast. When Malia found out Peter was her father, after the initial fury, she begged him to teach her. She wanted to know where she had come from, who she was, and at the beginning of senior year, she left, promising to come back. Stiles had been miserable.

Stiles’ expression changes. “You really don’t know?”

Lydia shakes her head, wondering exactly why she doesn’t.

“Malia’s gone.”

The look in his eyes is heartbreaking, but Lydia doesn’t mind stepping on some toes to get what she wants. “Explain.”

“A year after you left… she came back. It had been two years. I- I was furious. I thought she had… anyways, she was here for a couple years. We lived together for a while. A long time, actually. One day, when I was investigating a case, Scott called. She… she had gone to fight, some stupid battle that wasn’t hers, and the other guy… this Egyptian spirit, he had wolfsbane, and she didn’t know, and he won. She died.”

“She just... died?”

“It’s amazing how human a werecoyote could be.”

Lydia’s breath catches in her throat.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, but that doesn’t change anything.” Stiles’ voice has stayed even the entire conversation, a feat she can’t believe. “It was three years ago. Life goes on. Hurts like nothing else, but it goes on.”

Lydia catches herself nodding, sympathizing perfectly with the conversation. Jackson, Allison. She’s lost a fair share of people she loved herself, and it’s true. Life goes on.

After the confession, the air had cleared between the two. Lydia knows all about shared loss- no matter how far she runs from this place, these people will always seem to be close. They understand.

“You need a drink.” She says, turning towards her own.

“It’s been too long since you’ve told me that.” Stiles sits at the bar next to her and waves the bartender over, ordering a beer. Lydia doesn’t feel bad at all about her margherita and takes another sip, eyes closing as she tries to ignore the fact that there is a real life, bona fide Stiles Stillinski right next to her. She clears her throat.

“How’s detecting been.”

“Good.”

Their voices are baseline, and Lydia’s done with the bull.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“What?”

“Maybe it was cruel, saying what I said then, but it was true. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, but our last interaction shouldn’t be awkward silences.”

Stiles is quiet for a second.

“I don’t care.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t care anymore. Lydia, that was ten years ago and I’m over it. I’m so past over it, in fact, that I had forgotten it even happened.”

“Good.” Lydia’s so relieved that she even lets her voice show it a bit- just a crack.

“We’re adults,” Stiles grumbles, sounding entirely too displeased with the concept. “It’s time we started acting like it.”

Lydia nods brusquely, hands hovering over the top of her glass.

“Friends.”

“Lydia Martin,” Stiles turns, looking at her full on in what feels like the first time in a long, long time. “We’ve always been friends.”

It’s not some big revelation and they don’t go into a deep discussion on life after. It’s said and it’s there, and they both know it. They don’t even stay at the bar much longer- Stiles goes off to meet more people, Lydia leaves soon after, knowing full well that she won’t care about anyone else in the class, but not before saying a quick goodbye to Scott, Sam, and Kira.

Her heels tap the linoleum on the way out, loud against the still of the school and she remembers how twelve years ago she wouldn’t step a foot inside the building at night for anything. Then she learned that anything can be bought, for the right price- and here she is, in Beacon High at night, putting all of her chips on the fact that she’s changed and Beacon Hills can’t have gotten much worse since she’s left.

She had opted for a hotel and now, she’s glad of it, because the last thing she wants is to have to entertain her family, put on a show. The second she enters the room she drops her heels on the floor and collapses on the bed, head spinning from loose ends.

Lydia doesn’t see anyone until the next week, at Scott’s wedding.


End file.
